


We All Go The Same

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Drug Use, Homophobia, M/M, Minor Angst, Past Drug Addiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 16:01:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2234979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean spends his last summer before college doing typical stuff - visiting the campus, going on vacation with his little brother, having an intense fling with a complete stranger that he never got the name of. But it doesn't matter, because he's never going to see that blue-eyed boy ever again, not now that school is starting and he has his life to plan. Nope, that's all he'll ever be in Dean's mind - fond memories. Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	We All Go The Same

**Author's Note:**

> so i'm still new to this, but i hope you like it  
> i don't know how many chapters this will be, so  
> all mistakes are my own  
> the title is a radical face song (a personal favorite)  
> give feedback, if you want - be as harsh and critical as you desire, i want to get better at the writing thing  
> thanks for reading~

_Running your fingers through dark hair. Blue eyes staring back, almost like they’re staring into you. Strong hands tracing over the planes of your back, lips kissing each freckle -_

Dean woke up breathing heavily. He looked frantically around the room, finding it empty of everything. All of his stuff boxed up, the only things not ready to go being his sheets and the clothes he was planning to wear that day. Running his fingers through his hair, he stood up and walked over to the bathroom, details of the dream still hanging in the back of his mind. Just a summer fling. You’re never gonna see him again, Dean told himself as he stepped into the shower, hot water running down his skin. That didn’t stop him from thinking about impossibly blue eyes and strong arms, though.

  
He was still sunburnt - another memory of summer. The last summer before college, the first and last time he’d seen him. A week of - what had they even done? In just one week Dean had felt a huge aspect of his personality change - the thing changing being that _wow. When did I get into guys?_ They’d never even exchanged names. In an entire week, he’d never asked. He attempted to push away the thought that this could end up like Grease in any way, shape, or form. Dean tried to ignore everything going through his head - now was not a good time to be reminiscing about that week. He had a long drive to make, goodbyes to say, and papers to get in order. And he was definitely not going to start singing Greased Lightning.

  
It took him twenty minutes to finish showering, toss on his clothes, make his hair look normal, and box up his sheets. Dean carried the last few boxes downstairs and into his car, arranging them so that they all fit. No one else in the house was up yet - he knew it would be too painful to watch them put parts of his life into boxes and pack them away. He hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. Shut up, Winchester - you’re coming back for fucking Thanksgiving. _Stop being an idiot._ As Dean put the last box in, he turned around and saw Sam standing in front of the door to the garage. Dean couldn’t believe that this was his little brother - Sam had grown like a weed, tall and lanky. Floppy brown hair hanging over his face and still messy from bed, eyes almost seeming to change color when he stepped out of the light.

 

“Why’d you pack up so early? You’re not leaving for another two hours.” Sam visibly winced when his voice cracked, making Dean chuckle softly.

“I was actually thinkin’ about leaving earlier, Sammy. Traffic, y’know?”

Sam walked over to stand in front of his brother, almost tall enough to be at eye-level. He eyed the other Winchester up and down, expression inscrutable.

“You’ll call when you can, right?”

“Sure, Sam. You’ll never get that Jess girl without my help, remember?”

Sam punched him lightly before walking into a hug, murmuring _jerk_ into Dean’s shoulder.

“C’mon, let’s go back inside. Gotta have my last meal with the family, right?”

***

The last family meal consisted of pancakes, a ridiculous amount of bacon, and their mother’s tears. She couldn’t stop them from rolling down her cheeks whenever she looked at her son across the table, and Sam had finally just given her a box of tissues for her to use instead of sniffling into her napkin. John wasn’t nearly as emotional. He gave Dean a gruff “Good luck, son” and a pat on the back once breakfast had ended, sending him out the door.

  
He got another hug from his mom and Sam, both wishing him luck and making him promise to call as often as possible. He was warned to stay away from drugs and that his grades better be spectacular, and Sam told him not to irritate his roommate too much. Dean waved at his family when he sat back into his car, a final goodbye. The engine roared into action and he took off, cruising down and onto the highway. Down to college. College.

  
It was a ten hour drive, twelve with traffic - Dean had driven down earlier. That was part of how he’d met the blue-eyed boy. It started out as a three-day long college trip to visit the campus, and it ended up being a week-long vacation with a complete stranger. A very dreamy stranger, but still a stranger. Always gonna be a stranger, Dean thought to himself. He moved his hand to the dash, flipping on the music and letting his music blast as loud as it could go. A smile changed his features, making the anxious look disappear from his face.  
At hour four, he decided to stop and get something to eat. There was a small bar on the road, seemingly in the middle of nowhere - an old sign read The Roadhouse, and even though it was terrible location-wise, it looked packed. Dean parked the car, jingling his keys in his hand as he walked up to the front door. He didn’t know what to get. It was odd to have to worry about spending money now because it was _his_ money, and he didn’t have much.

  
The place was crowded, but there was a variety of people. Bikers were in the back booths, a few tired-looking families sitting at the tables in the middle, a couple of suspicious guys at the bar, and some kids that looked like college students right next to the door. Dean sat down at the far end of the bar, his seat being unfortunately close to the bathroom doors. He grimaced, shifting on the stool and waiting for one of the two women at the bar to help him. One was a middle-aged woman, a stern look on her face. The other was just a girl, maybe eighteen - blonde and pretty. Very pretty.  
 _Stop it. You can’t fuck a girl in a place like this - and you have a schedule to keep,_ Dean mentally smacked himself as she walked over to him. He noticed that her eyes were tired - but not the kind of didn’t-sleep tired. It was the kind of look your face got when the world wore you down. He’d seen it on his father’s face countless times.

 

“Hey, welcome to the Roadhouse. What can I get you?”

“How ‘bout a smile?”

Dean knew that line was probably going to fall flat, even when he added a charm-your-pants-off smile to it. The girl - her name tag read Jo - clenched her jaw and all of a sudden, where there had once been exhaustion there was now fire. It looked like she was trying to burn Dean into a crisp with her eyes, and it terrified him.

“Sorry, sorry - um. What’s the cheapest thing you’ve got?”

“Air. But try to hit on me again and I’ll start charging by the minute.”

“Okay then. Glass of water and… you guys serve burgers?”

“Best in the state.”

“I’ll have a burger. Thanks.”

 

Dean got his food in less than thirty minutes, and he left the bar as soon as he had it, making sure to leave a generous tip for Jo. He ate in the car, driving faster on the road to make up for lost time. Something about it felt lonely, driving like this. He kept trying to think about it as if he was moving toward something rather than away from it - both statements were true, but they hurt. Dean just pushed all the emotions bubbling inside his chest down as far as he could in his mind - the typical method of dealing with problems for a Winchester.

  
Hour eight left him in standstill traffic, furious and wanting to jump off a bridge. There had been a massive crash a few miles ahead of him, and every lane was backed up. He was stuck for two hours, during which he spent sleeping. Once the cars got moving again, he broke the speed limit more times than he could count. Even then, what was supposed to be ten hours ended up being thirteen.  
Dean parked his car in a reserved spot on campus, not caring about what would happen. He took out his box of shower stuff and reached into another container for a pair of clothes. Walking into the front building, he told the woman up front his name and room number. She gave him a key and directions - he was on the fourth floor. _Damn it - it’s high._

  
He didn’t try to be quiet when he opened the door - he yanked it open, slammed it shut, and decided that his roommate would just have to deal with his shitty attitude. The room was small - two beds pushed against opposite walls, each equipped with a nightstand. Two desks were on the other side of the room, one of which was already covered in papers and books. There was a guitar in the corner, sparking a memory to come back to life in his mind. Dean shook his head, trying to get the thought out of his head, trying to not think about long fingers softly strumming, a gravelly voice urging him to sing. _Shut up._ The roommate was facing the wall, back turned to Dean. Papers had been sent out with roommate names, but Dean was too fucking tired to try and remember the guy’s name. He thought that his last name started with an M - or maybe an N? The only features he could make out were broad shoulders and dark hair, breathing soft and steady despite the noise Dean had caused. He sighed, running a hand over his face. At least he wasn’t pissed off or anything.

  
Deciding to take a shower in the morning, Dean tossed his belongings onto the foot of the unoccupied bed and landed face-first onto the mattress. It was covered in a single sheet, along with a pillow, but he was too exhausted to rearrange himself. _Screw consciousness,_ he thought. It took precisely three minutes for Dean to pass out, finally allowing his body to relax.

***

_It was windy up on the cliffside, breezes flowing over his body. Dean walked up the side, over to a man standing at the very edge. He hadn’t spoken to anyone since he’d arrived, and this guy was standing dangerously close. The man rocked back on his heels, letting one of his feet dangle over the edge. He threw his arms back, and right before he could jump Dean shouted._

_“WAIT!”_

_He turned around, confusion all over his face. Dean was running now, reaching out and pulling the stranger away from the edge and back to safety. They fell together, landing in the dirt and rocks, hair whipping in the air. Dean was still holding onto the man’s wrist, breathing hard - partially from running, partially from almost falling off a cliff, and partially from nearly witnessing a suicide._

_“What are you doing?”_

_The stranger spoke - he was staring at Dean now, an unreadable expression on his face._

_“Saving your life, dumbass.”_

 

When Dean opened his eyes, the only thing he could remember was the color blue. Like the sky, the ocean, like - _oh._

Like him.

He turned over, eyes scratchy and body aching. When he turned to face his roommate, the bed was empty. Some of the books on the desk were gone, but classes didn’t start for another two days - the move-in period was four days, two for actually moving and two more for getting your bearings. Dean figured he should get up and shower and try and do something today, but part of him just wanted to stay in bed all day and sleep away the pain in his bones. Realizing that he was extremely uncomfortable, he decided to shower, put on clean clothes, then sleep more. Dean gathered his stuff, closing the door behind him and walking down the hallway to the bathrooms. Ten showers, ten sinks, ten toilets. Dean stripped down behind a curtain and let the spray wash over his body, rubbing his shoulders to try and get some of the tension out.

  
Dean redressed and walked out of bathroom, deciding to get some of his boxes from the car. He carried two at a time, noticing that he was already sweating again from having to carry so much stuff up four flights of stairs. As he put his final boxes down, he sighed and grabbed an old t-shirt, deciding to just sleep in boxers. He rinsed off in the shower again, wondering if his roommate would care about the near-pathological cleanliness of Dean Winchester.

  
The door had been left open a crack when he came back, and he felt a wave of nervousness hit as he realized that his living partner was going to be in there. For the next ten months, he’d be living with this guy in a cramped space. _Get it over with. You’re gonna see him everyday, anyway._

  
Dean opened the door, stepping inside and almost falling backwards when he saw the other person sitting in the room. He watched the boy’s eyes widen, looking him up and down, squinting and tilting his head to the side. Dean gulped, stepping further inside. His hair was longer than Dean remembered - sticking up at odd angles, not combed the way it had been before. He wasn’t as tan - skin still golden, but less so. And he was still looking at Dean like he was the cause of all goodness in the world.

“Hello, Dean.”


End file.
